And Things That Go "Parp, 'Aaaaaaahhh!!', Plooo, Crunchsplat" In The Night

Not so long ago, Hogwarts wasn't exactly what it is today. The Sorting Hat had fewer patches. The Whomping Willow was merely the Sort-Of-Condescending-Pat Willow. And Nearly-Headless Nick was fully-headed, and living in an apartment on 37 Daffodil Lane. And not so long ago, lived the Marauders, a group that would draw a permanent moustache and beard onto the face of magic.

Chapter One

James and Lily were sitting on their trunks in the Great Hall. Lily was staring at the ceiling. This was because it was a lot more interesting than the ceiling in McGonagall's office.

"Why isn't there a roof?" she asked.

James looked up, uninterestedly. "There is; it's just enchanted to look like the sky."

"What a waste of magic."

"We-ell…" said James, reluctant to hear slander against the wizarding world. "It is nice looking, and useful for telling the weather without having to go outside. Plus, if they didn't have a roof, all the rain and snow and stuff would get inside."

He contemplated the ceiling again.

""Besides," he said, after a moment's thought. "there's no substance in the world that could be substituted. One that's transparent, but it still doesn't let the elements and the mosquitoes in."

"Erm… yes, there is."

"Of course there isn't; that would be physically impossible! It would contravene the Magical Methods Theorem of Eldritch Maxmin. I've studied these things!"

"Er… glass," said Lily.

"What?"

"Glass," Lily repeated. "You can see through it, but it's still a wall."

"What?" said James again.

"Y'know, you make windows and stuff out of it? And cups. And, er, the glasses that you're wearing."

There was a pause.

"I think it is due to the high altitude," said James, in the manner of someone reaching a highly important scientific conclusion. "Clearly the lack of oxygen has affected my brain, rendering me unable to partake in my usually witty and brilliant dialogue."

Lily smiled brightly. "Of course! Naturally! Right! The high altitude! Lack of oxygen! Exactly! I should have thought of that! That's what it was!"

"That was unnecessarily sarcastic," said James coldly.

Lily pondered this.

"We just had a conversation in which you tried to prove that it was impossible for glass to exist. I rather think I'm entitled."

James blinked, but seemed to the see the sense in this. "Er… yeah, okay. Fair enough."

--

"Well, it seems we have some newcomers!" said Dumbledore cheerfully, beaming at the assembled students as if the House banners behind him hadn't been replaced by the waving and winking pictures of Misses March, June, July, and September off the most recent Swimsuit Veelas calendar (though, they were not talking pictures, because no one bought the Swimsuit Veelas calendar for the witty repartee and oh so stimulating debate. Oh so stimulating something, perhaps, but not debate).

There were a few sniggers as the veela who had replaced the Ravenclaw banner bent down, and held two fingers behind Dumbledore's distinguished head, giving him bunny ears.

Dumbledore ignored this.

The Charms Professor, Flitwick, got rid of the veelas with a flip of his wand, producing disappointed grumbles from most of the senior male population.

At the Gryffindor table, Sirius shook his head disappointedly, and leaned over to his new grey-eyed friend.

"I can do Transfiguration, y'see," he whispered. "But I suck at Charms. Pity, that. I think July liked me."

The other boy, who was pale and currently looked very nervous, said: "You don't think they'll find out who it was, do you? Only, it's my first day, and I don't want to get into trouble."

"Don't worry so much, Remus, my good chap!" Sirius grinned.

This made Remus even more nervous. He remembered when he had first been bitten by the werewolf, and had been sent off to stay with a werewolf clan to learn how to deal with it. They had had a name for that particular type of grin. It was called the "You Know That I'm Going To Kill You Eventually, And I Know That I'm Going To Kill You Eventually, But For Now, I'll Give You A Five Minute Head Start While I Sharpen My Teeth On Your Deceased Friend Here" Grin.

It was a bit hard to translate into words. It worked better as a spine-chilling growl. (Remus had never liked this lifestyle. He was a vegetarian. Urges to gorge himself on bloody carcasses every month made this difficult. So far, he was proud to say that he had never killed anything, mostly because he was too slow to catch it, but perhaps maybe a little bit because his human side was winning. Sort of. Maybe. Hey, it's possible, okay!?!)

At the front of the Great Hall, the Sorting Hat was being brought out again. They set it on the traditional stool, and it burst into song.

Well, there's Gryffindor and Hufflepuff

And Ravenclaw toooo!!

Oh, and Slytherin, right, I forgot!

Er… and I get to choose which one you're in!!

So be nice to meeee!!

And, um… Yeah!

There was a stunned silence.

"Well, what'dya expect?" said the Hat, in its defence. "I thought I was going to get a whole year to come up with another song! It's not like it's that easy, you know!"

Dumbledore coughed politely. "I think we'll just have you sort Mr. Potter and Ms. Evans now, if you don't mind. They missed this afternoon's feast."

"Oh, alright," said the Hat, grumpily. It didn't hold with this kind of thing.

McGonagall picked up her scroll. It had two names on it.

"Er… Evans, Lily," she said, feeling quite foolish.

Lily walked up, and the Hat was placed on her head.

"I want to be in Gryffindor," she told it mentally.

"Everybody coming up with nothing but demands these days!" muttered the Hat, tetchily. "If you think you know where you should be, why don't you try being the Sorting Hat, eh?"

"That wouldn't work at all," Lily countered.

"Yeah, 'cause I have, like, the brains of all the Founders in me, and hundreds of years of experience n' all."

"No, because I could never sit on all those people's heads."

"Hah!" said the Hat. "Not Ravenclaw then!"

"I could be in Ravenclaw if I wanted! I am smart enough."

"You could be in Slytherin; all the nasty ones are in there."

"Muggle-born. James said they'd slaughter me."

"Oh, fine, fine, then. I guess you'll be in Hufflepuff then."

"NO!! Gryffindor!"

"Aww, but I do so want to put you in Hufflepuff."

"Look, you can't go putting people in the wrong houses just because you don't like them."

"I could, you know. If I wanted to. I am the Sorting Hat."

Sirius yawned very very obviously. "Get on with it already!!" he said, loudly.

Lily turned red. "If you don't put me in Gryffindor right now, I will tear you off my head and stomp on you."

"Finefineit'sGRYFFINDOR!" The Hat said, very quickly.

"FINALLY!" called Sirius, above the applause from the Gryffindor table.

McGonagall glared at him. She glanced perfunctorily at her scroll. "Potter, James."

James bounded up to the Hat and picked it up.

"GRYFFINDOR!" It yelled immediately. For a hat, it had very good self-preservation instincts.

James grinned sheepishly, and walked over to sit beside Lily and Sirius. There was more applause.

Sirius glared very sternly at the two of them. "I'm very hungry!" he said. "You've been keeping a growing boy from his food!"

James automatically reached over and shoved a drumstick in Sirius' mouth. This was a common occurrence, it seemed.

Beside them, Remus and Lily had introduced themselves, and were having a quiet conversation over their first impressions of the school, both having come from Muggle families. James could hear only fragments of their conversation above Sirius' ramblings about "food, food, glorious food. My first love after the July veela!".

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall was towering over them.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I see we can take five points off Gryffindor. And I assume this is your friend, Mr. Purple?"

Sirius choked on a forkful of Shepard's Pie. "WHAT?!"

"Yes," said James, looking innocent. "Yes. This is Sirius Purple."

Sirius looked as if he wanted to protest vehemently. He was cut off by the unfortunate fact that he seemed to be choking.

McGonagall waved her wand to relieve him, and said: "Well, Mr. Purple, that will be a further ten points off Gryffindor. Which, I believe is the first time that a Hogwarts house have ever reached the negative points." She walked away.

Sirius and James looked at each other for a moment, grinned, and high-fived.

"Oh, we're good," said Sirius.

"We're very very good," said James.

"Or very very bad," said Remus, "depending on where you're sitting."

"We're sitting right here!" protested James.

"It was a figure of speech. I'm Remus Lupin, by the way."

"James Potter. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"What kind of figure…?" asked Sirius, warily.

"Er… what?" asked Remus.

"Speech," he said. "What kind of figure does it have?"

"I… don't know. I've never, um, thought to ask."

"Because if it's anything like Miss July's…"

"I don't think that's quite how it works—"

"Besides, can we see this figure from where we're sitting?" asked James.

"Um, what?"

"The figure of speech depends on where you're sitting. You said so just a minute ago!"

"I didn't mean—"

"Maybe we should move?" suggested Sirius. "If we're not sitting in the appropriate place to catch the figure?"

"I—"

"You never said, is it a good figure? 'Cause I wouldn't want to move just to look at some old crone."

Remus stared at the earnest faces of James and Sirius, who, having been brought up in the wizard world, were not familiar with Muggle colloquialisms. Then he looked at Lily, who was doing a very poor job of hiding her laughter behind her hands.

"Well?" said James. "Is it a good figure? And where should we sit?"

"When will it get here, anyway?" asked Sirius.

"What?" muttered Remus, staring vaguely at his mashed potatoes.

"The figure of speech, obviously!"

Remus mulled over all possible courses of action, and resorted to the one that would eventually come to be the favourite of Gryffindors everywhere.

He smacked them both upside the head.

"Ow!"

"What was that for?!"

"Aww, hell, that hurt!"

"Look! I'm bleeding!"

"No, James, that's your hair gel."

"Since when is my hair gel red and sparkly?"

"Since you told McGonagall my name's 'Sirius Purple'."

"Ohhh. Revenge, was it?"

"Yep."

"Well, that's alright then."

The sound of good-natured bickering faded into the night.